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1Author:  Adams Henry 1838-1918Add
 Title:  John Randolph  
 Published:  2006 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: William, first American ancestor of the innumerable Randolphs of Virginia, made his appearance there at some time not precisely known, but probably about the year 1660. The books tell us neither whence he came, who he was, why he emigrated, nor what were his means; but "William Randolph, gentleman, of Turkey Island," originally from Warwickshire, or from Yorkshire, at all events from England, unless it were from Scotland, married Mary Isham, of Bermuda Hundred, and by her had seven sons and two daughters, whose descendants swarmed like bees in the Virginian hive. Turkey Island, just above the junction of the James with the Appomattox, lies unnoticed by mankind except at long intervals of a hundred years. In 1675, about the time when William Randolph began his prosperous career there, Nathaniel Bacon lived on his plantation at Curles, adjoining Randolph's estate. Bacon's famous rebellion broke out in this year, and in 1706, according to the records of Henrico County, Curles, after escheating to the King, had come into the hands of William Randolph's sons. The world's attention, however, was not so actively drawn to this group of tobacco plantations by Bacon's rebellion as by Benedict Arnold's raid in 1781, and neither of these bloody and destructive disturbances made the region nearly so famous as it became on June 30, 1862, when fifty thousand Northern troops, beaten, weary, and disorganized, converged at Malvern Hill and Turkey Island Bridge, and the next day fought a battle which saved their army and perhaps their cause, without a thought or a care for the dust of forgotten Randolphs, on which they were trampling in this cradle of the race. They were not more indifferent than the family itself, for long before this time the descendants of William Randolph had grown up, multiplied, accumulated great possessions in slaves and land, then slowly waned in fortune, and at last disappeared, until not an acre of land on the James or the Appomattox was owned by a Randolph. Known to you only as holding, in common with yourself, the honorable station of servant to the same sovereign people, and disclaiming all pretentions to make to you any application which in the general estimation of men requires the preface of apology, I shall, without the circumlocution of compliment, proceed to state the cause which induces this address." "I have not seen, although I have heard, of the attack which you mention, upon Gallatin, in the `Aurora.' That paper is so long in reaching me, and, moreover, is so stuffed with city, or rather suburb, politics, that I seldom look at it. Indeed, I have taken a disgust at newspapers ever since the deception and disappointment which I felt in the case of Langdon's election. If the `Boston Chronicle,' published almost upon the spot, should so grossly misrepresent a plain matter of fact, so easily ascertained, what reliance can be placed upon a newspaper statement? My incredulity refused to credit Hamilton's death, which I thought it very likely would be contradicted by the next mail; and, until I saw Morris's wretched attempt at oratory, regarded it merely as a matter of speculation. You ask my opinion on that subject; it differs but little, I believe, from your own. I feel for Hamilton's immediate connections real concern; for himself, nothing; for his party and those soi-disant republicans who have been shedding crocodile tears over him, contempt. The first are justly punished for descending to use Burr as a tool to divide their opponents; the last are hypocrites, who deify Hamilton merely that they may offer up their enemy on his altars. If Burr had not fallen, like Lucifer, never to rise again, the unprincipled persecution of Cheetham might do him service. (By the way, I wonder if Dennie adverted to Cheetham's patronage of General Hamilton's memory, when he said that, `except the imported scoundrel,' etc., etc., all bewailed his loss.) As it is, those publications are calculated to engage for him the pity even of those who must deny their esteem. The people, who ultimately never fail to make a proper decision, abhor persecution, and while they justly refuse their confidence to Mr. Burr, they will detest his oppressors. They cannot, they will not, grope in the vile mire of seaport politics, not less vitiated than their atmosphere. Burr's is indeed an irreparable defeat. He is cut off from all hope of a retreat among the federalists, not so much because he has overthrown their idol as because he cannot answer their purpose. If his influence were sufficient to divide us, Otis and Morris would to-morrow, ere those shoes were old in which they followed Hamilton to the grave, go to the hustings and vote for Burr; and if his character had no other stain upon it than the blood of Hamilton, he should have mine, for any secondary office. I admire his letters, particularly that signed by Van Ness, and think his whole conduct in that affair does him honor. How much it is to be regretted that so nice a perception of right and wrong, so delicate a sense of propriety, as he there exhibits should have had such little influence on his general conduct! In his correspondence with Hamilton, how visible is his ascendency over him, and how sensible does the latter appear of it! There is an apparent consciousness of some inferiority to his enemy displayed by Hamilton throughout that transaction, and from a previous sight of their letters I could have inferred the issue of the contest. On one side there is labored obscurity, much equivocation, and many attempts at evasion, not unmixed with a little blustering; on the other, an unshaken adherence to his object and an undeviating pursuit of it, not to be eluded or baffled. It reminded me of a sinking fox pressed by a vigorous old hound, where no shift is permitted to avail him. But perhaps you think me inclined to do Burr more than justice. I assure you, however, that when I first saw the correspondence, and before my feelings were at all excited for the man, as they have been in some degree by the savage yell which has been raised against him, I applauded the spirit and admired the style of his compositions. They are the first proof which I ever saw of his ability." "On my return from Fredericksburg, after a racing campaign, I was very agreeably accosted by your truly welcome letter, to thank you for which, and not because I have anything, stable news excepted, to communicate, I now take up the pen. It is some satisfaction to me, who have been pestered with inquiries that I could not answer on the subject of public affairs, to find that the Chancellor of the Exchequer and First Lord of the Treasury is in as comfortable a state of ignorance as myself. Pope says of governments, that is best which is best administered. What idea, then, could he have of a government which was not administered at all? The longer I live, the more do I incline to somebody's opinion that there is in the affairs of this world a mechanism of which the very agents themselves are ignorant, and which, of course, they can neither calculate nor control. As much free will as you please in everything else, but in politics I must ever be a necessitarian. And this comfortable doctrine saves me a deal of trouble and many a twinge of conscience for my heedless ignorance. I therefore leave Major Jackson and his Ex. of Casa Yrujo to give each other the lie in Anglo-American or Castilian fashions, just as it suits them, and when people resort to me for intelligence, instead of playing the owl and putting on a face of solemn nonsense, I very fairly tell them, with perfect nonchalance, that I know nothing of the matter, — from which, if they have any discernment, they may infer that I care as little about it, — and then change the subject as quickly as I can to horses, dogs, the plough, or some other upon which I feel myself competent to converse. In short, I like originality too well to be a second-hand politician when I can help it. It is enough to live upon the broken victuals and be tricked out in the cast-off finery of you first-rate statesmen all the winter. When I cross the Potomac I leave behind me all the scraps, shreds, and patches of politics which I collect during the session, and put on the plain homespun, or, as we say, the `Virginia cloth,' of a planter, which is clean, whole, and comfortable, even if it be homely. Nevertheless, I have patriotism enough left to congratulate you on the fullness of the public purse, and cannot help wishing that its situation could be concealed from our Sangrados in politics, with whom depletion is the order of the day. On the subject of a navy, you know my opinion concurs with yours. I really feel ashamed for my country, that whilst she is hectoring before the petty corsairs of the coast of Barbary, she should truckle to the great pirate of the German Ocean; and I would freely vote a naval force that should blow the Cambrian and Leander out of water. Indeed, I wish Barron's squadron had been employed on that service. I am perfectly aware of the importance of peace to us, particularly with Great Britain, but I know it to be equally necessary to her; and in short, if we have any honor as a nation to lose, which is problematical, I am unwilling to surrender it. "Bizarre, 29 March, 1805. . . . My sins against Monroe, in whose debt I have been for near five months, would have excited something of compunction in me were I any longer susceptible of such sensations; but I will write to him immediately on your subject; and, take my word for it, my good friend, he is precisely that man to whom your spirit would not disdain to be obliged. For, if I know you, there are very few beings in this vile world of ours from whom you would not scorn even the semblance of obligation. In a few weeks I shall sail for London myself. . . . I gather from the public prints that we are severely handled by the feds and their new allies. Not the least equivocal proof, my friend, that the trust reposed in us has not been betrayed. I hope to be back in time to trail a pike with you in the next campaign. . . . I wish very much to have if it were but half an hour's conversation with you. Should you see Gallatin, commend me to him and that admirable woman his wife. What do you augur from the vehement puff of B[urr]? As you well know, I never was among his persecutors, but this is overstepping the modesty of nature. Besides, we were in Washington at the time, and heard nothing of the miraculous effects of his valedictory. Rely upon it, strange things are at hand. Never did the times require more union and decision among the real friends of freedom. But shall we ever see decision or union? I fear not. To those men who are not disposed to make a job of politics, never did public affairs present a more awful aspect. Everything and everybody seems to be jumbled out of place, except a few men who are steeped in supine indifference, whilst meddling fools and designing knaves are governing the country under the sanction of their names." "28 June, 1805. . . . I do not understand your manœuvres at headquarters, nor should I be surprised to see the Navy Department abolished, or, in more appropriate phrase, swept by the board, at the 11 next session of Congress. The nation has had the most conclusive proof that a head is no necessary appendage to the establishment." "I am still too unwell to turn out. My bowels are torn all to pieces. If you persist in voting the money, the committee will alter its report. Write me on this subject, and tell me what you are doing. How is Edward to-day? I 've heard from St. George. He got to Norfolk in time for the Intrepid, on the 24th, Tuesday. She was loaded, and only waiting for a fair wind. If the southeaster of Friday did not drive her back into the Chesapeake, she has by this time crossed the Gulf Stream. The poor fellow was very seasick going down the bay. "Bizarre, 3 June, 1806. . . . The public prints teem with misrepresentations, which it would be vain to oppose, even if an independent press could be found to attempt it. The torrent is for the present resistless. I long for the meeting of Congress, an event which hitherto I have always deprecated, that I may face the monster of detraction. . . . Nothing will be left undone to excite an opposition to me at the next election, but I have no expectation that it will be effected, or of its success in case it should. There are too many gaping idolaters of power among us, but, like you, we have men of sterling worth; and one thing is certain, — that, however we may differ on the subject of the present administration, all parties here (I speak of the republicans) unite in support of Monroe for President. I have heard of but one dissenting voice, Giles, who is entirely misled; all his information is from E[ppes], his representative. They talk of an expression of the opinion of our legislature to this effect at their next meeting. An inefficient opposition is making to Garnett. Thompson, I believe, will have an opponent likewise, but this is not yet determined on. From what I have written above you are not to infer that I mean to yield a bloodless victory to my enemies. You know me well enough, I hope, to believe that a want of perseverance is not among my defects. I will persevere to the last in the cause in which I am embarked." "Washington, March 20, 1806. . . . There is no longer a doubt but that the principles of our administration have been materially changed. The compass of a letter (indeed, a volume would be too small) cannot suffice to give you even an outline. Suffice it to say that everything is made a business of bargain and traffic, the ultimate object of which is to raise Mr. Madison to the presidency. To this the old republican party will never consent, nor can New York be brought into the measure. Between them and the supporters of Mr. Madison there is an open rupture. Need I tell you that they (the old republicans) are united in your support? that they look to you, sir, for the example which this nation has yet to receive to demonstrate that the government can be conducted on open, upright principles, without intrigue or any species of disingenuous artifice? We are extremely rejoiced to hear that you are about to return to the United States. Much as I am personally interested, through St. George, in your stay in Europe, I would not have you remain one day longer. Your country requires, nay demands, your presence. It is time that a character which has proved invulnerable to every open attack should triumph over insidious enmity." "Georgetown, 10 December, 1806. . . . The message of the 3d was, as you supposed, wormwood to certain gentry. They made wry faces, but, in fear of the rod and in hopes of sugar-plums, swallowed it with less apparent repugnance than I had predicted. . . . Of all the men who have met me with the greatest apparent cordiality, old Smilie is the last whom you would suspect. I understand that they (you know who they are) are well disposed towards a truce. The higher powers are in the same goodly temper, as I am informed. I have seen nobody belonging to the administration but the Secretary of the Navy, who called here the day before yesterday, and whose visit I repaid this morning. You may remember, some years ago, my having remarked to you the little attention which we received from the grandees, and the little disposition which I felt to court it. I have therefore invariably waited for the first advance from them, because at home I conceive myself bound to make it to any gentleman who may be in my neighborhood." "Committee Room, 17 February, 1807. . . . Bad as you suppose matters to be, they are even worse than you apprehend. What think you of that Prince of Prigs and Puppies, G. W. C[ampbell] for a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States!!! Risum teneas? You must know we have made a new circuit, consisting of the three western States, with an additional associate justice. A caucus (excuse the slang of politics) was held, as I am informed, by the delegations of those States for the purpose of recommending some character to the President. Boyle was talked of, but the interest of C. finally prevailed. This is `Tom, Dick, and Harry' with a vengeance. . . . If Mr. `American,' whom, by the way, I never see, should persevere in the attack which you tell me he is making upon me, I shall issue letters of marque and reprisal against his principals. The doughty general [Samuel Smith] is vulnerable at all points, and his plausible brother [Robert Smith] not much better defended. The first has condemned in terms of unqualified reprobation the general measures pursued by the administration, and lamented that, such was the public infatuation, no man could take a position against it without destroying himself and injuring the cause which he attempted to serve, — with much more to the same tune. I called some time since at the navy office to ask an explanation of certain items of the estimate for this year. The Secretary called up his chief clerk, who knew very little more of the business than his master. I propounded a question to the head of the department; he turned to the clerk like a boy who cannot say his lesson, and with imploring countenance beseeches aid; the clerk with much assurance gabbled out some commonplace jargon, which I would not take for sterling; an explanation was required, and both were dumb. This pantomime was repeated at every new item, until, disgusted, and ashamed for the degraded situation of the principal, I took leave without pursuing the subject, seeing that my subject could not be attained. There was not one single question relating to the department that the Secretary could answer." "Bizarre, March 24, 1807. . . . Mr. T. M. Randolph suddenly declines a reëlection, in favor of Wilson Nicholas, whose talents for intrigue you well know, I presume. Had I known of Mr. Purviance's arrival, I should certainly have remained in Washington for the purpose of seeing him, and procuring better information concerning the treaty than the contradictory accounts of the newspapers furnish. I have considered the decree of Berlin to be the great cause of difficulty; at the same time, I never had a doubt that clamor would be raised against the treaty, be it what it might. My reasons for this opinion I will give when we meet. They are particular as well as general. Prepare yourself to be surprised at some things which you will near." "Richmond, May 30, 1807. . . . The friends of Mr. Madison have left nothing undone to impair the very high and just confidence of the nation in yourself. Nothing but the possession of the government could have enabled them to succeed, however partially, in this attempt. In Virginia they have met with the most determined resistance, and although I believe the executive influence will at last carry the point, for which it has been unremittingly exerted, of procuring the nomination of electors favorable to the Secretary of State, yet it is not even in its power to shake the confidence of the people of this State in your principles and abilities, or to efface your public services from their recollection. I should be wanting in my duty to you, my dear sir, were I not to apprise you that exertions to diminish the value of your character and public services have been made by persons, and in a manner that will be scarcely credible to you, although at the same time unquestionably true. Our friend Colonel Mercer, should you land in a northern port, can give you some correct and valuable information on this and other subjects. Meanwhile, the republicans of New York, sore with the coalition effected by Mr. John Nicholas between his party and the federalists (now entirely discomfited), and knowing the auspices under which he acted, are irreconcilably opposed to Mr. Madison, and striving to bring forward Mr. Clinton, the Vice-President. Much consequently depends on the part which Pennsylvania will take in this transaction. There is a leaning, evidently, towards the New York candidate. Whether the executive influence will be able to overcome this predisposition yet remains to be seen. In the person of any other man than Mr. M. I have no doubt it would succeed. But the republicans of Pennsylvania, setting all other considerations aside, are indignant at the recollection that in all their struggles with the combined parties of McKean, etc., and the federalists, the hand of government has been felt against them, and so far as it has been exerted they choose to ascribe [it] to the exertions of Mr. M. Such is, as nearly as I can collect, the posture of affairs at present. Wilson C. N[icholas] and Duane are both in town at this time. Some important result is no doubt to flow from this conjunction. When you return, you will hardly know the country. A system of espionage and denunciation has been organized which pervades every quarter. Distrust and suspicion generally prevail in the intercourse between man and man. All is constraint, reserve, and mystery. Intrigue has arrived at a pitch which I hardly supposed it would have reached in five centuries. The man of all others who, I suppose, would be the last suspected by you is the nucleus of this system. The maxim of Rochefoucauld is in him completely verified, `that an affectation of simplicity is the refinement of imposture.' Hypocrisy and treachery have reached their acme amongst us. I hope that I shall see you very soon after your arrival. I can then give you a full explanation of these general expressions, and proof that they have been made upon the surest grounds. Amongst your unshaken friends you may reckon two of our chancellors, Mr. Nicholson of Maryland, Mr. Clay of Philadelphia, Col. Jno. Taylor, and Mr. Macon." "Baltimore, April 12, 1807. . . . As to the public sentiment, I cannot readily state what it is. Perhaps there is none. The President's popularity is unbounded, and his will is that of the nation. His approbation seems to be the criterion by which the correctness of all public events is tested. Any treaty, therefore, which he sanctions will be approved of by a very large proportion of our people. The federalists will murmur, but as this is the result of system, and not of principle, its impression will be neither deep nor extensive. A literal copy of Jay's treaty, if ratified by the present administration, would meet their opposition, while the same instrument, although heretofore so odious to some of us, would now command the support of a large body who call themselves democrats. Such is our present infatuation. To this general position, however, there are some honest exceptions. There is a portion who yet retain the feelings of 1798, and whom I denominate the old republican party. These men are personally attached to the President, and condemn his measures when they think him wrong. They neither wish for nor expect anything from his extensive patronage. Their public service is intended for the public good, and has no view to private emolument or personal ambition. But it is said they have not his confidence, and I lament it. You must have perceived from the public prints that the most active members in the House of Representatives are new men, and I fear that foreign nations will not estimate American talent very highly if our congressional proceedings are taken as the rule. If you knew the Sloans, the Alstons, and the Bidwells of the day, and there are a great many of them, you would be mortified at seeing the affairs of the nation in such miserable hands. Yet these are styled exclusively the President's friends. . . . These facts will enable you to form an early opinion as to the necessity of remaining in England. You know Mr. Jefferson perfectly well, and can therefore calculate the chances of his approving anything done not in precise conformity to his instructions. He is, however, somewhat different from what he was. He feels at present his own strength with the nation, and therefore is less inclined to yield to the advice of his friends. Your return is anxiously wished for by many who, I presume you know, are desirous of putting you in nomination for the presidency. My own expectations are not very sanguine on this subject. Great efforts are making for and by another. The Virginia and New York elections which take place in the course of the present month will determine much. The point is made throughout Virginia, I believe, and much solicitude is felt and expressed by the candidate for the presidency as to the result of the several elections. It is to be hoped, therefore, that you will return as early as possible." "Bizarre, 25 March, 1807. . . . I fully intended to have written to you the day before my departure from Washington, but was prevented by an accident which had nearly demolished me. Being very unwell on Monday night, the 2d, and no carriage to be procured, I accepted the offer of one of his horses from Dr. Bibb (successor to Spalding), and we set out together for Georgetown. Not very far beyond our old establishment (Sally Dashiell's), the only girth there was to the saddle gave way, and as it fitted the horse very badly it came with his rider at once to the ground. Figure to yourself a man almost bruised to death, on a dark, cold night, in the heart of the capital of the United States, out of sight or hearing of a human habitation, and you will have a tolerably exact idea of my situation, premising that I was previously knocked up by our legislative orgies, and some scrapes that our friend Lloyd led me into. With Bibb's assistance, however, I mounted the other horse, and we crept along to Crawford's, where I was seized with a high fever, the effects of which have not yet left me. To end this Canterbury tale, I did not get out of bed until Wednesday afternoon, when I left it to begin a painful journey homewards. Anything, however, was preferable to remaining within the ten-miles-square one day longer than I was obliged. . . . Colonel Burr (quantum mutatus ab illo!) passed by my door the day before yesterday, under a strong guard. So I am told, for I did not see him, and nobody hereabouts is acquainted with his person. The soldiers escorting him, it seems, indulged his aversion to be publicly known, and to guard against inquiry as much as possible he was accoutred in a shabby suit of homespun, with an old white hat flapped over his face, the dress in which he was apprehended. From the description, and indeed the confession of the commanding officer to one of my neighbors, I have no doubt it was Burr himself. His very manner of travelling, although under arrest, was characteristic of the man, enveloped in mystery." "Richmond, 25 June, 1807. . . . Yesterday the grand jury found bills of treason and misdemeanor against Burr and Blennerhassett, una voce, and this day presented Jonathan Dayton, ex-senator, John Smith of Ohio, Comfort Tyler, Israel Smith of New York, and Davis Floyd of Indiana, for treason. But the mammoth of iniquity escaped; not that any man pretended to think him innocent, but upon certain wire-drawn distinctions that I will not pester you with. Wilkinson is the only man that I ever saw who was from the bark to the very core a villain. . . . Perhaps you never saw human nature in so degraded a situation as in the person of Wilkinson before the grand jury, and yet this man stands on the very summit and pinnacle of executive favor, whilst James Monroe is denounced. As for such men as the quids you speak of, I should hardly think his Majesty would stoop to such humble quarry, when James Monroe was in view. Tazewell, who is writing on the other side of the table, and whom you surely remember, says that he makes the fifth. The other four you have not mistaken. My friend, I am standing on the soil of my native country, divested of every right for which our fathers bled. Politics have usurped the place of law, and the scenes of 1798 are again revived. Men now see and hear, and feel and think, politically. Maxims are now advanced and advocated, which would almost have staggered the effrontery of Bayard or the cooler impudence of Chauncy Goodrich, when we were first acquainted. But enough of this! It will not be long, I presume, before I shall see you again. The news of the capture of the Chesapeake arrived this morning, and I suppose the President will convene Congress, of course. I have been looking for something of this sort ever since the change of ministry and rejection of the treaty was announced. I have tried to avert from my country a war which I foresaw must succeed the follies of 1805-6, but I shall not be the less disposed to withdraw her from it or carry her through with honor." "I have indulged myself in reading once more the speech to which you allude. It is the inspiration of divine wisdom, and as such I have ever adored it. But, my good friend, I cannot with you carry my zeal so far as to turn missionary and teach the gospel of politics to the heathens of Washington. More easily might a camel pass through a needle's eye than one particle of the spirit of Chatham be driven into that `trembling council,' to whom the destinies of this degraded country are unhappily confided. . . . But great God! what can you expect from men who take Wilkinson to their bosoms, and at the same time are undermining the characters of Monroe and Macon, and plotting their downfall! There is but 15 one sentiment here, as far as I can learn, on the subject of the late outrage: that, as soon as the fact was ascertained, Congress should have been convened, a strict embargo laid, Erskine [the British Minister] sent home, our Ministers recalled, and then we might begin to deliberate on the means of enforcing our rights and extorting reparation. The Proclamation (or, as I term it, the apology) is received rather coldly among us. Many persons express themselves much mortified at it. Every one I see asks what government means to do, and I might answer, `What they have always done; nothing!' . . . I should not be surprised, however, if the Drone or Humble Bee, (the Wasp has sailed already) should be dispatched with two millions (this is our standing first bid) to purchase Nova Scotia, and then we might go to war in peace and quiet to ascertain its boundaries." "December 24, 1807. . . . Come here, I beseech you. I will then show you how impossible it was for me to have voted for the embargo. The circumstances under which it presented itself were peculiar and compelled me to oppose it, although otherwise a favorite measure with me, as you well know. It was, in fact, to crouch to the insolent mandate of Bonaparte `that there should be no neutrals;' to subscribe to that act of perfidy and violence, his decree, at the moment when every consideration prompted us to resist and resent it. Non-importation and non-exportation, — what more can he require? Ought we to have suffered ourselves to be driven by him out of the course which, whether right or wrong, our government had thought proper to pursue towards England? to be dragooned into measures that in all human calculation must lead to immediate war? Put no trust in the newspaper statements. They will mislead you. But come and view the ground, and I will abide the issue of your judgment." "December 24, 1807. My dear Sir, — In abstaining so long from a personal interview with you, I leave you to judge what violence I have committed upon my private feelings. Before your arrival, however, I had determined on the course which I ought to pursue, and had resolved that no personal gratification should induce me to hazard your future advancement, and with it the good of my country, by any attempt to blend the fate of a proscribed individual with the destiny which, I trust, awaits you. It is, nevertheless, of the first consequence to us both that I should have a speedy opportunity of communing fully with you. This, perhaps, can be best effected at my own lodgings, where we shall not be exposed to observation or interruption. I shall, however, acquiesce with pleasure in any other arrangement which may appear more eligible to you. "Georgetown, March 9, 1808. . . . A consciousness of the misconstruction (to your prejudice) which would be put upon any correspondence between us has hitherto deterred me from writing. You will have no difficulty in conceiving my motives in putting this violence upon my feelings, especially after the explanation which I gave of them whilst you were here. The prospect before us is daily brightening. I mean of the future, which until of late has been extremely gloomy. As to the present state of things, it is far beyond my powers to give an adequate description of it. Mr. W. C. N. begins of late to make open advances to the federalists, fearing, no doubt, that the bait of hypocrisy has been seen through by others. I must again refer you to Mr. Leigh for full information of what is going on here. The indiscretion of some of the weaker brethren, whose intentions, I have no doubt, were good, as you will have perceived, has given the enemy great advantage over us." "February 20, 1808. . . . Our friend gains ground very fast at home. Sullivan, the Governor of Massachusetts, has declared against M[adiso]n. The republicans of that great State are divided on the question, and if Clay be not deceived, who says that Pennsylvania, Duane non obstante, will be decidedly for the V[ice] P[resident], the S[ecretary] of S[tate] has no chance of being elected. Impress this, I pray you, on our friends. If the V. P.'s interest should be best, our electors (in case we succeed) will not hazard everything by a division. If the election comes to the House of Representatives M[adiso]n is the man." "I am really afraid that our friend R. will injure himself with the nation in this way. An attempt is now making, and will, I think, be continued, to impress on the minds of the people that he speaks with a view to waste time. If this opinion should prevail, it will, I fear, injure not only him, but the nation also, because what injures him in public estimation will injure the people also. His talents and honesty cannot be lost without a loss equal to them both, and they cannot be ascertained. But you know him as well as I do." "Georgetown, February 14, 1811. . . . For some days past I have been attending the debates in the Senate. Giles made this morning the most unintelligible speech on the subject of the Bank of the U. S. that I ever heard. He spoke upwards of two hours, seemed never to understand himself (except upon one commonplace topic, of British influence), and consequently excited in his hearers no other sentiment but pity or disgust. But I shall not be surprised to see him puffed in all the newspapers of a certain faction. The Senate have rejected the nomination of Alex. Wolcott to the bench of the Supreme Court, — 24 to 9. The President is said to have felt great mortification at this result. The truth seems to be that he is President de jure only. Who exercises the office de facto I know not, but it seems agreed on all hands that there is something behind the throne greater than the throne itself. I cannot help differing with you respecting [Gallatin]'s resignation. If his principal will not support him by his influence against the cabal in the ministry itself as well as out of it, a sense of self-respect, it would seem to me, ought to impel him to retire from a situation where, with a tremendous responsibility, he is utterly destitute of power. Our cabinet presents a novel spectacle in the political world; divided against itself, and the most deadly animosity raging between its principal members, what can come of it but confusion, mischief, and ruin! Macon is quite out of heart. I am almost indifferent to any possible result. Is this wisdom or apathy? I fear the latter." The habits of intimacy which have existed between us make it, as I conceive, my duty to inform you that reports are industriously circulated in this city to your disadvantage. They are to this effect: That in order to promote your election to the Chief Magistracy of the Commonwealth you have descended to unbecoming compliances with the members of the Assembly, not excepting your bitterest personal enemies; that you have volunteered explanations to them of the differences heretofore subsisting between yourself and administration which amount to a dereliction of the ground which you took after your return from England, and even of your warmest personal friends. Upon this, although it is unnecessary for me to pass a comment, yet it would be disingenuous to conceal that it has created unpleasant sensations not in me only, but in others whom I know you justly ranked as among those most strongly attached to you. I wished for an opportunity of mentioning this subject to you, but none offered itself, and I would not seek one, because, when I cannot afford assistance to my friends, I will never consent to become an incumbrance on them. I write in haste, and therefore abruptly. I keep no copy, and have only to enjoin on you that this communication is in the strictest sense of the term confidential, solely for your own eye. I have purposely delayed answering your letters because you seem to have taken up the idea that I labored under some excitement (of an angry nature it is to be presumed from the expressions employed in your communication to Colonel Taylor, as well as in that to myself), and I was desirous that my reply should in appearance as well as in fact proceed from the calmest and most deliberate exercise of my judgment. By you I would be understood; whether the herd of mankind comprehend me or not, I care not. Yourself, the Speaker, and Bryan are, of all the world, alone acquainted with my real situation. On that subject I have only to ask that you will preserve the same reserve that I have done. Do not misunderstand me, my good friend. I do not doubt your honor or discretion. Far from it. But on this subject I am, perhaps, foolishly fastidious. God bless you, my noble fellow. I shall ever hold you most dear to my heart."
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2Author:  Horn Walter William 1908-Add
 Title:  The Plan of St. Gall  
 Published:  2006 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | California studies in the history of art | california studies in the history of art 
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3Author:  Horn Walter William 1908-Add
 Title:  The Plan of St. Gall  
 Published:  2006 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | California studies in the history of art | california studies in the history of art 
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4Author:  Horn Walter William 1908-Add
 Title:  The Plan of St. Gall  
 Published:  2007 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | California studies in the history of art | california studies in the history of art 
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5Author:  Stowe Harriet Beecher 1811-1896Add
 Title:  Uncle Tom's cabin, or, Life among the lowly  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two gentlemen were sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished dining parlor, in the town of P—, in Kentucky. There were no servants present, and the gentlemen, with chairs closely approaching, seemed to be discussing some subject with great earnestness. “Ran away from the subscriber, my mulatto boy, George. Said George six feet in height, a very light mulatto, brown curly hair; is very intelligent, speaks handsomely, can read and write; will probably try to pass for a white man; is deeply scarred on his back and shoulders; has been branded in his right hand with the letter H. “Executor's Sale, — Negroes! — Agreeably to order of court, will be sold, on Tuesday, February 20, before the Court-house door, in the town of Washington, Kentucky, the following negroes: Hagar, aged 60; John, aged 30; Ben, aged 21; Saul, aged 25; Albert, aged 14. Sold for the benefit of the creditors and heirs of the estate of Jesse Blutchford, Esq.
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6Author:  Stowe Harriet Beecher 1811-1896Add
 Title:  Uncle Tom's cabin, or, Life among the lowly  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Tom, you need n't get me the horses. I don't want to go,” she said. “I feel somewhat at a loss, as to my future course. True, as you have said to me, I might mingle in the circles of the whites, in this country, my shade of color is so slight, and that of my wife and family scarce perceptible. Well, perhaps, on sufferance, I might. But, to tell you the truth, I have no wish to.
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7Author:  Taylor Bayard 1825-1878Add
 Title:  John Godfrey's fortunes, related by himself  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I was sitting at the front window, buried, chin-deep, in the perusal of “Sandford and Merton,” when I heard the latch of the gate click. Looking up, I saw that it was only Neighbor Niles, coming, as usual, in her sun-bonnet, with her bare arms wrapped in her apron, for a chat with mother. I therefore resumed my reading, for Neighbor Niles always burst into the house without knocking, and mother was sure to know who it was by the manner in which the door opened. I had gotten as far into the book as the building of the Robinson-Crusoe hut, and one half of my mind speculated, as I read, whether a similar hut might not be constructed in our garden, in the corner between the snowball-bush and Muley's stable. Bob Simmons would help me, I was sure; only it was scarcely possible to finish it before winter, and then we could n't live in it without a fireplace and a chimney. “My dear Brother, — Yours of the 10th is received. I am now so accustomed to your sarcastic style, that I always know what to expect when I open one of your epistles. I wish you joy of your — well, I must say our new cousin, though I am sorry you did not let me know of the discovery before telling him. He must be gauche and unpresentable in a degree; but then, I suppose, there 's no likelihood of his ever getting into our set. It is time your schooling was finished, so that I might have you for awhile as my chevalier. Between ourselves, I 'm rather tired of going about with” (here the word “Mamma” had evidently been written and then blotted out) “Mrs. Penrose. Not but what she continues to improve, — only, I am never certain of her not committing some niaiserie, which quite puts me out. However, she behaves well enough at home, and I hope you will overcome your prejudice in the end, for my sake. When you know as much about Society as I do, you will see that it 's always best to smooth over what 's irrevocable. People are beginning to forget the scandal, since that affair of Denbigh has given them something else to talk about. We were at Mrs. Delane's ball on Wednesday; I made her put on blue cut velvet, and she did not look so bad. Mrs. Vane nodded, and of course she was triumphant. I think Papa gives me the credit for all that has been done, — I 'm sure I deserve it. It 's a race between Mrs. P. and myself which shall have the new India shawl at Stokes's; but I shall get it, because Mrs. P. knows that I could teach her to blunder awfully as well as to behave correctly, and would do it, in spite of Papa's swearing, if she drives me to desperation. By the by, he has just come into the room, and says, `You are writing to the cub, as usual, I suppose, Matilda.' So there you have him, to the life.” “Respected Friend, I recd. your favor in which you informed me that you was getting on so well and gave the other as you directed. Thought it best to wait for the other's answer, though there is no particular news. Sep Bratton goes to The Buck every day, and there 's high goings on between him and the squire. Your friend Mr. Rand was there again. People say the squire is speculating about Pottsville, and will cut up pretty fat some day, which is no business of mine, but thought you might like to hear. We are all well, and mother and Sue says remember me to him. I guess Ben and her is satisfied with one another, but you need not say I told you. There is a mistress at the school this summer, a right smart young woman, her name is Lavina Wilkins. And hoping these few lines will find you enjoying good health, I remain, “Dear John,” (there were volumes of withheld confession for me in that one adjective): — Towards the end of May the important book appeared. I am sure that no immortal work was ever watched, through its different processes of incarnation, with such tender solicitude. I lingered over the first proofs, the revised proofs, and the printed and folded sheets, with a proud, luxurious interest, and the final consummation — the little volume, bound and lettered — was so precious that I could have kissed the leaves one by one. It seemed incredible that the “John Godfrey” on the title-page really meant myself! A book for me had hitherto possessed a sublime, mystical individuality of its own, and this, which had grown beneath my hand, by stages of manufacture as distinctly material as those which go to the formation of a shoe or a stove, was now to be classed among those silent, eloquent personalities! It might be placed side by side with “Paradise Lost” or “Childe Harold,” on book-shelves; who could tell whither chance or fortune might not carry it, or what young and burning lips it might not help unseal? “I have judged you unjustly, and treated you rudely, Mr. Godfrey. If I have not forfeited the right to make reparation, or you have not lost the desire to receive it, will you call upon me to-morrow evening, at Mrs. Deering's, and oblige “I will come. “Respd. Nephew, — I take my Pen in hand to inform you that Me and your aunt Peggy are injoying good Health and Those Blessings which the Lord Vouchsafes to us. It is a long Time since we have heard anything of you, but suppose you are still ingaged in the same Occupation as at first, and hence direct accordingly, hoping these few Lines may come Safely to hand. “The news contained in your letter of the 7th was quite unexpected, but none the less welcome, for your sake as well as my own. While I still think that the disposal of my little property ought to have been left to myself, I cheerfully acquit you of any intention to do me wrong, and to show that I not only bear no malice, but am willing to retract my hasty insinuations against your character, I will accept your proffered hospitality when I visit Reading. You may expect me within the next four or five days. “My Dear John, — I know why you have not written to me. In fact I knew, months ago, (through Deering,) what was coming, and had conquered whatever soreness was left in my heart. Fortunately my will is also strong in a reflective sense, and I am, moreover, no child to lament over an irretrievable loss. I dare say the future will make it up to me, in some way, if I wait long enough. At any rate, you won't object, my dear old fellow, to have me say — not that I wish you happiness, for you have it, but — that you deserve your double fortune. The other item I picked up from a newspaper; you might have written me that.
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8Author:  Thorpe Thomas Bangs 1815-1878Add
 Title:  The master's house  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: There is not a more charming town in New England, than Malden, so celebrated, and so widely known for its intelligent population, its interesting traditions, and its most excellent seat of learning. Dear Sir,—I understand you desire to purchase some valuable house servants. I have one or two that I would part with, if the trade could be made privately, and treated by you as confidential. I will be at the cross roads, near the old brick kiln, precisely at five o'clock, where we can hold conversation unobserved. Dear Sir,—I have been informed that you wish to purchase a few first class house-servants; I have two that I would part with, for less than their real value, if you can manage to get them in your possession, without giving their owners the pain of going through the separation. They have been carefully raised, and would not be sold, if their owners were not conscientiously impressed that their condition would not be improved, if they were set free. I shall be at your hotel at eleven o'clock to-day, and shall proceed at once to your room, to avoid the suspicion among the neighbors, that I am contemplating selling. You will consider our communications in honor, and trust they will be so treated. Sur,—I've got an old negro woman as wants to be sold, and go to Mobeel, in the State of Mississip'. I wouldn't sell her, if she didn't want to go down to that South country to see her children, as is owned by Mister Brownlaw, who, when he tuck the children, was to buy the old ooman, but didn't have the money, an hasn't sent for her 'cordin' to contract. I will sel her for two hundred and fifty, and I think Brownlaw will give you four hundred on his place, as her son is a carpenter, and I'm told he thinks a heap of him, as he can earn five dollars a day, making bridges on the rale rode. Please say nothing about this, and drop in at my house in the evening, when nobody is about, on the Sandy-hill road, f'ur miles from Colesburg, near the ruins of the old church, with a sign over the door, with my name painted on it. Dear Sir,—I understood last evening, after church was out, that you had come on here to obtain a few choice servants. I have long since been forced to the conclusion, that slavery is a moral evil, and I have rejoiced that I have parted with the few I have owned, to humane masters, which is a great relief to me, in my hours of serious reflection. I have one girl that has been carefully brought up, and we are much attached to her, but I am somewhat advanced in years, as well as her mistress, and we cannot tell at what time she may, in the course of Providence, be thrown without a protector, upon the wide, wicked world. I had determined not to sell her, but seeing you in church the other day, I have become deeply impressed that you 12* are a pious man, and as such, would deal justly with the girl. I have also reflected, that whatever may be my sense of duty, the excitement at the North has been so great, that it makes it perfectly impossible for me to carry out my original intention, of setting the girl free, as I cannot conceive a more dreadful condition, than for a once comfortably clothed and well taken care of negro slave, to be thrown upon the tender mercies of the uncharitable world, and be left, as are the poor white laborers of the free States, to starve, and die a miserable death. It would be difficult to get the girl's consent to be sold, and therefore this matter must be delicately arranged; she will no doubt, at first, be much grieved, but we must judge what is best for her welfare, ourselves, for we know how to provide for her real good. The girl is nearly nineteen years of age. Address “Humanity,” through the post-office, and say where a strictly private interview may be had. Of course this communication will be considered confidential. I trust I may sign myself, in the bonds of brotherly love, “Dear Sir: I received your favor, desiring me to state my opinion of the value of M. Guénon's `Treatise on Milch Cows,' translated from the French.... I immediately commenced the study and application of his method to every cow that came under my observation. I have examined more than one hundred cows, and, after carefully marking their escutcheons. I have become satisfied that M. Guénon's discovery is one of great merit, and can be relied upon as true. I have no doubt that I can judge very nearly as to the quantity and quality of the milk any cow will give at the height of her flow, and also the time she will continue in milk after being with calf. “I have read with great satisfaction M. Guénon's work on Milch Cows, by which one can judge by certain infallible signs the milking qualities of the animal. I have compared the marks he gives for his first-grade Flanders cow, and find they correspond with the escutcheon of my favorite Devon cow `Ellen,' that has taken the first premium at two cattle-shows of the American Institute. My farmer has great faith in M. Guénon's work, and so has one of my neighbors, a knowing Scotch milkman, who keeps fifty cows. He says that, after careful examination, he places confidence in these marks, and they will govern him in his future purchases. I shall hereafter make my selection of the calves I will raise from my choice stocks from the marks given by this author. I think every farmer should own this work. “Having had experience in raising cows, I was pleased to find a treatise on the subject by M. Guénon, of Libourne, in France—which I procured and carefully studied. I think the book more worthy of attention than I believe it has received. I found that his marks of the particular classes and orders of cows agree with nearly all I have had an opportunity to examine. It is easy to ascertain, after studying this book, to which class and order almost every cow belongs, which, as a guide in purchasing milch cows, or of safely deciding which to keep, before we have had time or opportunity to test their qualities as milkers, will far more than repay the price of the book, and the time necessary to a clear understanding of it.
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9Author:  Trowbridge J. T. (John Townsend) 1827-1916Add
 Title:  Coupon bonds, and other stories  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Reverend and dear Sir: — We have made all the arrangements. The Ex. is all right. You preach for Selwyn at Longtrot, on Sunday, the 7th.
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10Author:  Wallace Lew 1827-1905Add
 Title:  The fair god, or, The last of the 'Tzins  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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11Author:  Phelps Elizabeth Stuart 1844-1911Add
 Title:  The gates ajar  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: ONE week; only one week to-day, this twenty-first of February. My dear Child, — I have been thinking how happy you will be by and by because Roy is happy.
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12Author:  Willis Nathaniel Parker 1806-1867Add
 Title:  Fun-jottings, or, Laughs I have taken a pen to  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Where art thou, bridegroom of my soul? Thy Ione S— calls to thee from the aching void of her lonely spirit! What name bearest thou? What path walkest thou? How can I, glow-worm like, lift my wings and show thee my lamp of guiding love? Thus wing I these words to thy dwelling-place (for thou art, perhaps, a subscriber to the M—r). Go—truants! Rest not till ye meet his eye. “Dear Tom: If your approaching nuptials are to be sufficiently public to admit of a groomsman, you will make me the happiest of friends by selecting me for that office. “Dear Phil: The devil must have informed you of a secret I supposed safe from all the world. Be assured I should have chosen no one but yourself to support me on the occasion; and however you have discovered my design upon your treasure, a thousand thanks for your generous consent. I expected no less from your noble nature. “Sir: I am intrusted with a delicate commission, which I know not how to broach to you, except by simple proposal. Will you forgive my abrupt brevity, if I inform you, without further preface, that the Countess Nyschriem, a Polish lady of high birth and ample fortune, does you the honor to propose for your hand. If you are disengaged, and your affections are not irrevocably given to another, I can conceive no sufficient obstacle to your acceptance of this brilliant connexion. The countess is twenty-two, and not beautiful, it must in fairness be said; but she has high qualities of head and heart, and is worthy of any man's respect and affection. She has seen you, of course, and conceived a passion for you, of which this is the result. I am directed to add, that should you consent, the following conditions are imposed—that you marry her within four days, making no inquiry except as to her age, rank, and property, and that, without previous interview, she come veiled to the altar. “You will pardon me that I have taken two days to consider the extraordinary proposition made me in your letter. The subject, since it is to be entertained a moment, requires, perhaps, still further reflection—but my reply shall be definite, and as prompt as I can bring myself to be, in a matter so important. “On a summer morning, twelve years ago, a chimney sweep, after doing his work and singing his song, commenced his descent. It was the chimney of a large house, and becoming embarrassed among the flues, he lost his way and found himself on the hearth of a sleeping-chamber occupied by a child. The sun was just breaking through the curtains of the room, a vacated bed showed that some one had risen lately, probably the nurse, and the sweep, with an irresistible impulse, approached the unconscious little sleeper. She lay with her head upon a round arm buried in flaxen curls, and the smile of a dream on her rosy and parted lips. It was a picture of singular loveliness, and something in the heart of that boy-sweep, as he stood and looked upon the child, knelt to it with an agony of worship. The tears gushed to his eyes. He stripped the sooty blanket from his breast, and looked at the skin white upon his side. The contrast between his condition and that of the fair child sleeping before him brought the blood to his blackened brow with the hot rush of lava. He knelt beside the bed on which she slept, took her hand in his sooty grasp, and with a kiss upon the white and dewy fingers, poured his whole soul with passionate earnestness into a resolve. “You will recognize my handwriting again. I have little to say—for I abandon the intention I had formed to comment on your apparent preference. Your happiness is in your own hands. Circumstances which will be explained to you, and which will excuse this abrupt forwardness, compel me to urge you to an immediate choice. On your arrival at home, you will meet me in your father's house, where I shall call to await you. I confess, tremblingly, that I still cherish a hope. If I am not deceived— if you can consent to love me—if my long devotion is to be rewarded—take my hand when you meet me. That moment will decide the value of my life. But be prepared also to name another, if you love him—for there is a necessity, which I cannot 11 explain to you till you have chosen your husband, that this choice should be made on your arrival. Trust and forgive one who has so long loved you!” I have not written to you in your boy's lifetime—that fine lad, a shade taller than yourself, whom I sometimes meet at my tailor's and bootmaker's. I am not very sure, that after the first month (bitter month) of your marriage, I have thought of you for the duration of a revery—fit to be so called. I loved you— lost you—swore your ruin and forgot you—which is love's climax when jilted. And I never expected to think of you again. Start fair, my sweet Violet! This letter will lie on your table when you arrive at Saratoga, and it is intended to prepare you for that critical campaign. You must know the ammunition with which you go into the field. I have seen service, as you know, and from my retirement (on half-pay), can both devise strategy and reconnoitre the enemy's weakness, with discretion. Set your glass before you on the table, and let us hold a frank council of war. My dear Widow: For the wear and tear of your bright eyes in writing me a letter you are duly credited. That for a real half-hour, as long as any ordinary half-hour, such well-contrived illuminations should have concentrated their mortal using on me only, is equal, I am well aware, to a private audience of any two stars in the firmament—eyelashes and petticoats (if not thrown in) turning the comparison a little in your favor. Thanks—of course—piled high as the porphyry pyramid of Papantla! My dear neph-ling: I congratulate you on the attainment of your degree as “Master of Arts.” In other words, I wish the sin of the Faculty well repented of, in having endorsed upon parchment such a barefaced fabrication. Put the document in your pocket, and come away! There will be no occasion to air it before doomsday, probably, and fortunately for you, it will then revert to the Faculty. Quiescat adhuc—as I used to say of my tailor's bills till they came through a lawyer. All asleep around me, dear Ernest, save the birds and insects to whom night is the time for waking. The stars and they are the company of such lovers of the thought-world as you and I, and, considering how beautiful night is, nature seems to have arranged it for a gentler and loftier order of beings, who alternate the conscious possession of the earth with those who wake by day. Shall we think better of ourselves for joining this nightingale troop, or is it (as I sometimes dread) a culpable shunning of the positive duties which belong to us as creatures of sunshine? Alas! this is but one of many shapes in which the same thought comes up to trouble me! In yielding to this passion for solitude —in communing, perhaps selfishly, with my own thoughts, in preference to associating with friends and companions—in writing, spiritually though it be, to you, in preference to thinking tenderly of him—I seem to myself to be doing wrong. Is it so? Can I divide my two natures, and rightfully pour my spirit's reserve freely out to you, while I give to him who thinks me all his own, only the every-day affection which he seems alone to value? Yet the best portion of my nature would be unappreciated else—the noblest questionings of my soul would be without response—the world I most live in would be utterly lonely. I fear to decide the question yet. I am too happy in writing to you. I will defer it, at least, till I have sounded the depths of the well of angels from which I am now quenching my thirst—till I know all the joy and luxury which, it seems to me, the exchange of these innermost breathings of the soul can alone give. You refuse to let me once rest my eyes upon you. I can understand that there might be a timidity in the first thought of meeting one with whom you had corresponded without acquaintance, but it seems to me that a second thought must remind you how much deeper and more sacred than “acquaintance,” our interchange of sympathies has been. Why, dear Ermengarde, you know me better than those who see me every day. My most intimate companion knows me less. Even she to whom I, perhaps, owe all confidence, and who might weep over the reservation of what I have shared with you, had she the enlargement of soul to comprehend it—even she knows me but as a child knows the binding of a book, while you have read me well. Why should you fear to let me once take your features into my memory, that this vague pain of starry distance and separation may be removed or lessened?
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13Author:  Evans Augusta J. (Augusta Jane) 1835-1909Add
 Title:  St. Elmo  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: HE stood and measured the earth: and the ever lasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills did bow.” “Madam: In reply to your very extraordinary request I have the honor to inform you, that my time is so entirely consumed by necessary and important claims, that I find no leisure at my command for the examination of the embryonic chapter of a contemplated book. I am, madam, “Miss Earl: I return your MS., not because it is devoid of merit, but from the conviction that were I to accept it, the day would inevitably come when you would regret its premature publication. While it contains irrefragable evidence of extraordinary ability, and abounds in descriptions of great beauty, your style is characterized by more strength than polish, and is marred by crudities which a dainty public would never tolerate. The subject you have undertaken is beyond your capacity—no woman could successfully handle it—and the sooner you realize your over-estimate of your powers, the sooner your aspirations find their proper level, the sooner you will succeed in your treatment of some theme better suited to your feminine ability. Burn the inclosed MS., whose erudition and archaisms would fatally nauseate the intellectual dyspeptics who read my `Maga,' and write sketches of home-life—descriptions of places and things that you understand better than recondite analogies of ethical creeds and mythologic systems, or the subtle lore of Coptic priests. Remember that women never write histories nor epics; never compose oratorios that go sounding down the centuries; never paint `Last Suppers' and `Judgment Days;' though now and then one gives to the world a pretty ballad that sounds sweet and soothing when sung over a cradle, or another paints a pleasant little genre sketch which will hang appropriately in some quiet corner, and rest and refresh eyes that are weary with gazing at the sublime spiritualism of Fra Bartolomeo, or the gloomy grandeur of Salvator Rosa. If you have any short articles which you desire to see in print, you may forward them, and I will select any for publication, which I think you will not blush to acknowledge in future years. “My Dear Edna: I could not sleep last night in consequence of your unfortunate resolution, and I write to beg you, for my sake if not for your own, to reconsider the matter. I will gladly pay you the same salary that you expect to receive as governess, if you will remain as my companion and assistant at Le Bocage. I can not consent to give you up; I love you too well, my child, to see you quit my house. I shall soon be an old woman, and then what would I do without my little orphan girl? Stay with me always, and you shall never know what want and toil and hardship mean. As soon as you are awake, come and kiss me good-morning, and I shall know that you are my own dear, little Edna. “Edna: I send for your examination the contents of the little tomb, which you guarded so faithfully. Read the letters written before I was betrayed. The locket attached to a ribbon was always worn over my heart, and the miniatures which it contains, are those of Agnes Hunt and Murray Hammond. Read all the record, and then judge me, as you hope to be judged. I sit alone, amid the mouldering, blackened ruins of my youth; will you not listen to the prayer of my heart, and the half-smothered pleadings of your own, and come to me in my desolation, and help me to build up a new and noble life? O my darling! you can make me what you will. While you read and ponder, I am praying! Aye, praying for the first time in twenty years! praying that if God ever hears prayer, He will influence your decision, and bring you to me. Edna, my dar ling! I wait for you. “To the mercy of God, and the love of Christ, and the judgment of your own conscience, I commit you. Henceforth we walk different paths, and after to-night, it is my wish that we meet no more on earth. Mr. Murray, I can not lift up your darkened soul; and you would only drag mine down. For your final salvation, I shall never cease to pray, till we stand face to face, before the Bar of God. “My Darling: Will you not permit me to see you before you leave the parsonage? Knowing the peculiar circumstances that brought you back, I can not take advantage of them and thrust myself into your presence without your consent. I have left home to-day, because I felt assured that, much as you might desire to see `Le Bocage,' you would never come here while there was a possibility of meeting me. You, who know something of my wayward, sinful, impatient character, can perhaps imagine what I suffer, when I am told that your health is wrecked, that you are in the next room, and yet, that I must not, shall not see you—my own Edna! Do you wonder that I almost grow desperate at the thought that only a wall—a door—separates me from you, whom I love better than my life? O my darling! Allow me one more interview! Do not make my punishment heavier than I can bear. It is hard—it is bitter enough to know that you can not, or will not trust me; at least let me see your dear face again. Grant me one hour—it may be the last we shall ever spend together in this world.
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